mother
had just finished sewing on the tassel when you came. Tell me which is
mine, and which is Helen's," cried she, taking them both from the table
and mingling the hues of cerulean and emerald, the glitter of the golden
globules which ornamented the one, and the silver beads which starred
the other, in her hand.

"The green and gold must be Helen's--the silver and blue yours, Alice.
Am I right?"

"No. But will you care if it is exactly the reverse. Helen chose the
blue because it was my favorite color, and she thought you would prize
it most. Green was left for me, and then, you know, I was obliged to mix
it with gold."

"But why was green left for you? and why were you _obliged_ to mix it
with gold, instead of silver?" asked he, interested in tracing the
origin of her associations.

"I like but two colors," she replied, thoughtfully; "blue and green, the
blue of the heavens, the green of the earth. It seems that gold is like
sunshine, and the golden beads must resemble sunbeams on the green
grass. Silver is like moonlight, and Helen's purse must make you think
of moonbeams, shining from the bright blue sky."

"Why, my sweet Alice, where did the poetry of your thoughts come from? I
know not how such charming associations are born, unless of sight. Oh!
there must be an inner light, purer and clearer than outward vision
knows, in which the great source of light bathes the spirit of the
blind."

He paused a moment, with his eyes intently fixed on the soft, hazy orbs,
which gave back no answering rays--then added, in a gayer tone--

"And so I am the owner of these beautiful purses. How proud and happy I
ought to be! It will be long, I fear, before I shall fill them with
gold--and even if I could, it would be a shame to soil them with the
yellow dust of temptation. I will cherish them both. Yours, Alice, will
always remind me of all that is beautiful on earth, woven of this
brilliant green and gold. And yours, Helen, blue as the sky, of all that
is holy in Heaven.

"But while I am thus receiving precious gifts," he added, "I must not
forget that I am the bearer of some also. My saddle-bags are not
entirely filled with vials and pills. Here, mother, is a bunch of
thread, sent by Miss Thusa, white as the fleece of the unshorn lamb. She
says she spun it expressly for you, because of your kindness to Helen."

"I know by experience the beauty and value of Miss Thusa's thread," said
Mrs Hazleton, admiring the beaut